


Ghosts and Shadows

by Xenokroma



Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenokroma/pseuds/Xenokroma
Summary: The fate of the island is forever changed when Brutus meets a young man with a mysterious power and a troubled past.
Relationships: Midas/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Um, hi! So I've gotten myself hopelessly hooked on Fortnite and figured hey, I might as well do something creative with this new problem of mine, lol. I've been loving the crap out of Chapter 2 Season 2 and have fallen in love with all of the agents, especially Midas. I've had a lot of fun imagining headcanons for them and figured I'd take a crack at writing fic again.
> 
> Just a fair warning that I am extremely new to Fortnite. So if there's any overarching "story" things or canon things I've missed or gotten wrong, please forgive me! With that being said, I have taken quite a few liberties which I hope is alright. 
> 
> Finally, I apologize that this first chapter is so short!

Whoever this intruder was, he was damn lucky he was quick. 

That luck was about to run out once Brutus got his hands on him, though.

"You're just makin' me madder, pal!"

Brutus was strong. Ripping a phonebook in half? No problem. Opening jars? Practically his side hustle at this point. What he wasn't, however, was fast. At least, not typically. The one thing that kept his tired legs stampeding through the abandoned parking garage was the mental image of his hands wrapped around the throat of the little crook who decided it'd be cute to try running off with valuable intel. The thief made it as far as Lazy Lake before Brutus had finally cornered him… hopefully once and for all this time.

By the time his target had unwittingly cornered himself in the lowermost floor of the garage, Brutus felt like he'd just jogged up Mount Kay with a piano strapped to his back. He clenched his fists as he caught his ragged breath, watching his cornered prey desperately searching for an exit that didn't exist. 

As the thief realized that he was trapped, he whipped around to be greeted by the sight of Brutus's pistol.

"Game over."

The next second consisted of a deafening BANG followed by the clatter of the pistol falling to the floor. Muscle memory took over, deflecting a silver flash that Brutus would only afterwards realize was a knife slashing at his throat. 

The next couple of heartbeats were a flurry of flying feet, fists, and blades. The thief landed a couple of hits that were hard enough to nearly knock the wind out of Brutus. _Nearly._

Brutus could also feel a couple of nicks and slices that he knew would sting later that night. 

Although the thief was able to hold his own for the opening few moments of the fight, his energy was dwindling by the second. His body, exhausted from the long run through the foothills, was unable to keep up with the fight for much longer. It was only a matter of time before Brutus was given an opening to land such a powerful punch to the jaw that it sent the thief crashing downwards.

But before his opponent could hit the floor, Brutus had his meaty hands wrapped around the collar of his jacket. The thief yelped as the larger man launched him into an abandoned car. There was a cacophony of cracking glass as his lanky body burst through the vehicle's windshield.

He lay stunned in the empty frame of the windshield, groaning in agony from the force of the impact and the stabbing pain from the broken glass that had torn open and impaled his clothing and skin.

Brutus, confident that his target was neutralized, smirked as he raised his pistol. 

"Ya had your chance to--"

In the blink of an eye, Brutus realized that cockiness had gotten the better of him as the thief untangled himself from the mangled remains of the windshield. In one blinding motion, he flew towards Brutus, landing a blow on the man's shoulder that left an unusually painful sting.

It was as the man's feet hit the concrete floor that Brutus, in a white-hot surge of rage, realized what had just happened.

He'd been stabbed.

Brutus roared in fury and pain as he grabbed the other man by the upper arm, flinging him back towards the car. The wind came exploding right out of the thief's lungs as he flopped, belly first, onto the hood. Before he could even begin scrambling to get up, Brutus's massive, muscular hand had the back of his head in a vice-like grip.

"You thought that'd be real cute, didn'tcha?"

Brutus lifted the man's head up, tearing the white mask from his face with his free hand. Glowing, golden eyes the size of full moons stared back at him, stunned from pain and fear. The thief only had time to snarl at Brutus before he was thrust downwards yet again.

" _DIDN'TCHA?!_ " 

It was as if the man's body were made of mere paper. He cried out as his face was once and then twice more smashed into the hood. By the time Brutus threw him to the floor, he lacked the strength to even try to counter the series of kicks that were delivered to his abdomen. 

With his frustration at least somewhat subdued, Brutus paused, watching as the thief lay motionless and wheezing on the concrete. He then crouched by the man's side, patting him down and rummaging through his white jacket in search of the disk he'd been sent to retrieve. Finally, he found it within an inner pocket and pulled it out before replacing it safely within his tactical vest.

"Looks like you ain't getting that paycheck no more."

The thief's only response was a painful groan as Brutus rose to his feet. He placed his hand on his pistol. Brutus had a mind to the bastard out of his misery when a strange, sickening feeling overcame him.

_What are you doin', Brutus? Look at the guy._

Brutus stared blankly at the man's battered, bloody face. His _young_ face. His five o'clock shadow and his disheveled, brown hair.

_He's just a kid…_

As the adrenaline wore down, the pain from his wound began to slowly pulse through his body. Brutus silently clenched his teeth. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it now.

Having taken a better look at the guy, it didn't take Brutus much longer to decide.

There was a soft clinking as Brutus pulled a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt.

"Guess today's your lucky day, kid."


	2. Captured

The young man groaned as the stranger roughly cuffed his wrists behind his back. He dared not even squirm as his ankles were tied together with rope shortly thereafter. His head throbbed so violently and his mouth tasted so strongly of blood that it was sickening. The idea of moving was enough to make him queasy. 

He was not about to do anything that would earn himself another beatdown. 

The darkness that greeted the young man when the blindfold was wrapped over his eyes was strangely welcomed. Even the dim lighting of the parking garage was enough to worsen his already horrendous headache.

The relief that darkness brought, however, was quickly mitigated by the rough manner in which the stranger slung the young man over his shoulder. With one arm wrapped around the young man's legs to support him, the stranger touched his earpiece.

"Brutus here, I'm injured but I've recovered the intel," the stranger spoke in a matter-of-fact tone unlike anything the young man had heard from him thus far, "also managed to capture the thief alive. Figured you might wanna have a little chat with the guy. Send that chopper ASAP, boss. Over."

_ I suppose now is the moment where I'm supposed to demand to be freed,  _ the young man thought bitterly,  _ I'm supposed to be yelling and screaming that he won't get away with this. _

The young man thought about his family. His friends. All of the people who weren't going to rescue him.

_ Only he  _ will  _ get away with it. _

The only indication that the man that had called himself  _ Brutus  _ had exited the parking garage was the crisp air and the gentle touch of the autumn sun. The young man had a sinking feeling that this might be the last time he would get fresh air in a very long time. He hadn't the faintest clue where he was about to be taken; all he knew was that the door to his new home was likely to be barred.

High in the sky above them, the young man could hear the distant droning of an approaching helicopter. Brutus quickened his pace, hurrying to what the young man recalled was a mostly-empty parking lot. His captor eventually came to a halt and waited as the helicopter made its final approach before touching down a few yards away from them.

The next thing the young man remembered was Brutus, with the help of yet another stranger, hoisting him into the aircraft and roughly setting him down in a seat. The helicopter lifted off as Brutus climbed in, slamming the door behind him shut as two medics began fussing over his wounds. 

The young man simply sat in silence, unable to even wipe away the blood dripping from his nose. 

The young man, although still blindfolded, could feel Brutus' eyes on him. Finally, he turned to a third person that the young man assumed was also a medic.

"Clean that kid's face up, will ya?" 

The young man remained utterly motionless as the medic approached and began dabbing at his nose, lips and chin with gloved hands. The young man could sense Brutus watching as the medic performed his first aid procedures on his new collection of injuries. He didn't care to pay much attention to what the medics were telling him; just something about fractures and broken bones and concussions that would need further treatment. 

He was somewhat relieved when the medics finally backed off, giving him back most of his personal space. Aside from the medics' narration and the pilot occasionally muttering into her headset, the next few minutes were spent in relative silence.

At least until Brutus decided to make small talk.

"You got a name, kid?"

_ Does it matter? _ The young man remained silent and still, stifling even the scowl he so desperately wanted to wear.

"Another one of them secretive types, eh?" Brutus snorted grimly, "I get it."

There was another pregnant pause punctuated only by the drone of the helicopter. 

"Name's Brutus."

The young man was told by his client to keep his identity as hidden as possible. They didn't want a paper trail that would eventually identify them as being the ones behind this little caper. Only the young man had failed. The client had made it clear that upon successfully completing the contract, the payment would be larger than anything he could ever have dreamed. What they also made clear was that the punishment for failure would be just as large… if not larger.

Torture at the hands of the enemy, or a death likely to be slow and painful at the hands of his former clients?

What did he have left to lose?

"Emilio."

Brutus softly hummed in acknowledgement, "so what's your story, Emilio? How'd a kid like you get tangled up in this nasty business?"

Emilio fell silent once again. Why did he care? Didn't this man just try to kill him multiple times?

"I'd tell you to go home and live a normal life, but knowing what I do about this situation…" Brutus sighed heavily, "you really got in over your head, buckaroo."

Emilio could hear Brutus rapping his fingernails on some metal surface as he pondered the situation.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen." 

"Guess I was around that age, too," Brutus conceded. 

The small talk - if one could even call it much of a talk - was cut short as the aircraft approached its destination. It was at this point that Emilio grew restless. The thought of what lay in wait for him below was enough to make his heart begin to flutter.

"Here, lemme see your feet," Brutus muttered as he leaned forward, slicing the rope that bound Emilio's ankles together, "it's in your best interest to be on your best behavior from here on out… dig?"

"Hmmph."

There was a  _ bang  _ as Brutus slid the door open. It felt like the helicopter had barely even touched the ground when two soldiers pulled Emilio from the aircraft. Emilio was walked across the helipad with a soldier gripping either of his arms. 

Emilio was escorted in silence down a steep, concrete slope. They descended until the sunlight and breeze were replaced by air conditioning and the constant sound of machinery. People were jogging to and fro, chattering amongst themselves and shouting orders. He could hear the harsh crackling of metal being welded together, and the deafening roar of power tools. It was like an entire city was packed into one room. Much to Emilio's relief, everybody that they passed seemed too busy to pay them much mind.

Emilio was then led through what felt like an endless labyrinth of corridors until he and the soldiers came upon a pair of sliding, metal doors. The endless beeping and faint sound of a ventilator on the other side of the room indicated to Emilio that he had been brought to some sort of medical facility.

It was then that his blindfold was finally removed. Emilio found himself looking into the eyes of a young woman in a long, white coat. She was dark-skinned and had curly hair that was tied back in a tight, high ponytail. Her brown eyes did a quick scan of Emilio from behind her round, plastic-framed glasses. She must have decided from her first impression of him that he wasn't a threat.

"Uncuff him."

"Yes, doctor."

There was a  _ click _ followed by the welcoming feeling of the handcuffs finally falling from Emilio's wrists. With his hands now freed, he rubbed his skin where the metal had been digging into them for what had felt like hours.

"Follow me," the doctor ordered.

The doctor hadn't shown much emotion in the few seconds that Emilio had known her, but something about her cool demeanor made him feel safe for the time being. She hadn't hit him yet, at least.

He sat down on an examination table as instructed. The doctor began jotting a few notes on a clipboard as the two sat in silence.

"Name?"

"Emilio."

The doctor lifted her eyes, raising an eyebrow.

_ Your full name. _

Emilio sighed. His family name felt like a curse word to him at this point, but his head was throbbing too much to have an argument with the doctor right now.

"Emilio Kovačević," he drawled, sarcastically emphasizing his surname with the turning up of his nose. The doctor's only response was a split-second's stare before scribbling down the rest of his name.

The doctor had him answer a few more questions about his identity before she was satisfied with the information she collected. 

"Thank you," she murmured as she scanned her notes one last time, "Bastien will be the one taking care of you today. I've got an injured agent that I've got to take care of. I'll touch base with you later."

The doctor left, striding across the medical bay, greeting Brutus as he entered the room. She paused, handing her clipboard to a tall nurse before leading Brutus to another part of the medical bay.

Emilio stared at the floor as the nurse approached the examination table.

"Hello," the nurse greeted him with a sing-song voice, "Emilio, I presume?"

Emilio grunted.

"Okay, good," the nurse smiled, "well, my name is Bastien and I'll be checking you out today, alright?" 

Emilio narrowed his eyes at Bastien. The nurse was unphased by Emilio's golden glare, however, and went about placing gadgets on various parts of his body. A little plastic thing Bastien referred to as a pulse oximeter was placed on Emilio's index finger; next, a blood pressure cuff was inflated around his arm. Emilio stared at the floor the whole time, trying to ignore the nurse's amicable chatter. It was better than being beaten or tortured, but still, it made Emilio uncomfortable.

Did Bastien not realize he was a prisoner?

"Breathe normally for me," Bastien coaxed, pulling Emilio from his thoughts, "you're okay, hon. I just need to have a listen, alright?"

It was only then that Emilio realized he'd basically been holding his breath the entire time Bastien had been examining him. 

As Bastien began running him through a series of cognitive tests, Emilio was forced to actually pay more attention to what was happening. Emilio typically hated checkups; he loathed all the poking and the prodding and the questions. But with this Bastien fellow, the experience was almost pleasant, given the circumstances. 

Unlike his family's old private doctor, this nurse was so…  _ gentle _ . Kind. Everything about him radiated a strangely soothing warmth. The way he spoke. The way he touched Emilio. The way he kept reassuring and checking on him. It was as if Bastien actually cared about him. 

Emilio found himself beginning to relax.

"You have a concussion," Bastien sadly reported as he concluded his tests, "so you're going to have to take it easy for a while, hon. Nothing too mentally intensive, nothing that'll make you exert yourself--"

"How kind of you," Emilio muttered, half to see what Bastien would say, "making sure I rest up before I get tortured and executed?"

"Listen," Bastien leaned in closely, resting a hand on Emilio's shoulder, "you're going to be placed in a cell for security purposes. That's not my call. But I'll tell you this…"

Emilio found himself with no choice but to stare into the nurse's warm, brown eyes.

"...nobody hurts my patients." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ;u; Here is obviously the chapter where some of my little creative liberties have begun to show lol. I hope it's okay! ;u;


End file.
